


The Unbearable Darkness of Being

by Kemurikat



Category: Vampire Hunter D
Genre: Anime, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemurikat/pseuds/Kemurikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief interlude in the further adventures of Vampire Hunter D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unbearable Darkness of Being

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:**  
>  The Vampire Hunter D character belongs to Japanese author Hideyuki Kikuchi and this work of fan-fiction was written purely for entertainment purposes. This snippet was inspired by both the animated feature 'BloodLust' and H. Kikuchi's novels - now translated to English by Kevin Leahy and available at your local bookstore chain.

  
[ ](http://orig05.deviantart.net/06fd/f/2015/138/a/0/the_unbearable_darkness_of_being_by_kemurikat-d8tvuvy.png)

 

The magnificent structures and citadels that had occupied most of the once overpopulated surface were reduced to dust. Gone were all the conveniences and luxuries that marked the human race's lifestyle at the height of their civilization.  Greed, selfishness and a blatant disregard for their environment culminated in the widespread devastation of war and elemental upheaval.  The millions that died were spared the suffering that was to come and those that lived had wished they hadn’t.

The first surviving generations of humans thrived on relearning basic survival instincts: the sturdy construction of shelter against the elements, cultivating the land to grow crops, hunting and preparing wild animals for food, and making their own clothing. However, people that were born with any trace of mutation were mercilessly exiled or abandoned, condemning them to a truly barbaric way of life. 

Hundreds of years had past and the biggest change amid the desolated landscape was that humanity no longer remained the dominant species. They became the livestock for a new race that emerged from the darkest depths of existence: Vampires.

The Nobility, as the vampires were known, had firmly established themselves as the ruling class, using fear and violence to subjugate what remained of the human race. For centuries they flourished and lived within magnificent automated cities, developed whatever technology interested or benefited them and used captured humans as slaves and for scientific experimentation. The more prominent Nobles selectively employed the most powerful mutants as personal bodyguards.

Then quite unexpectedly, humanity banded together in a unified war against the Nobility for their freedom. Maniacal determination fueled by such a worthy cause resulted in a glorious victory over their vampire oppressors, and more destruction scourged the landscape, as many sought to eradicate anything the Nobility had left behind.

A new age dawned upon the world and the ragged human population reluctantly coexisted with various creatures: mutants, surviving vampires and monsters, whether they were natural or artificial.  Although, what the majority feared the most was the rise of what they called Abomination.

  


* * *

  


A luminescent moon loomed high and full over a lonely span of uninhabited terrain, revealing a traveler that dared to wander in the dead of night. The moon's earth-bound light reflected off an expanse of metallic skin and formed a soft halo around a hunter and his mount. The hunter's cyborg stallion was indeed an impressive animal: menacing red eyes with a muscular yet graceful build, entirely black from head to hoof with a long mane and tail. It was a customized, elite-of-its-class, biomechanical masterpiece from one of the few remaining sciences retained out of necessity and one of the sturdiest, most expensive investments the hunter had ever made. In his line of work, a reliable animal was crucial. Fortunately, the engineer he'd hired to construct it had no customer preferences.

Usually, cyborg stallions lasted the hunter no longer than six to eight months, since he rode them mercilessly hard, but this one had somehow outlived the many difficulties it was put through. After five years, the hunter found himself growing unusually fond of this particular creature, for it seemed to exhibit an intelligence that actually surprised him. He even went as far as giving it a name: Nightmare.

The hunter simply called himself 'D.' A bounty hunter by trade, he stalked the remaining vampires of the ravaged world and protected defenseless humans whose blood the Nobility constantly hungered for. Ironically, D himself was half-vampire. It was a fact that most humans feared and hated once they discovered his true nature, but to the vampires he hunted, he was seen as the most horrible of traitors. He was a creature neither fully vampire nor wholly human, an outcast, condemned by both.

Lost in thought, D clenched his left fist involuntarily.

"Hey, you're killing me here," griped a grating voice in muffled protest.

Imbedded in D's left palm was a sentient life-form that manifested itself as an old, eyeless face. A mysterious creature with a natural tendency best described as severely annoying and hostile, was an integral part in keeping the vampire hunter alive.

"Where the hell are we going anyway?"

"To visit an old friend," was D's even-toned reply.

"Never pegged you for the sentimental type," it mocked, laughing. "Though I'm sure it'll be business as usual. Hell has to freeze over before you _ever_ decide to have a little fun."

D ignored the life-form's banter and gazed up at the moon. It was one of the few things in his lonely existence that still gave him pleasure. Beautiful and steadfast in the night sky, it was a constant fixture in all his centuries of hunting.  His eyes slid shut when a soft breeze passed through his thick, wavy, auburn hair; a silken mass that generously flowed down his back to his waist.  As a Dhampir, he was given an unnaturally long lifespan, near supernatural strength and reflexes, along with what he personally considered the 'drawback' of an alluringly attractive appearance. Despite the somber-colored, rugged clothing he wore as a hunter, it did little to dull the intensity of his gaze or the angelically perfect features of his pale face.  

The soft breeze lingered in the air as D gazed at the expansive, star-filled sky, unobstructed by cloud-cover, the steady gait of his mount, soothing and unhurried.  It was rare moments like these that he savored the most.  The simple enjoyment of the night with its sounds, smells and stillness.

His horse nickered softly and anxiously shook its head. The hunter's defenses immediately surfaced as he coaxed Nightmare into a fast canter, his inhuman senses quickly searching his surroundings for attackers.

The life-form in his left palm confirmed his suspicions.

"There's five of them," it spoke matter-of-factly, "they're in the shadows behind large boulders to your right. One's a mutant, most likely their tracker. Smells like the same gang we ditched a couple of weeks ago. I guess that price on your head just hit the roof."

On cue, Nightmare ran full tilt. D disliked confrontations of this kind and avoided them when he could. Battling mutants and vampires was one thing, killing stupid, greedy humans was another.

"He's getting away!" screamed one of his pursuers.

D's body hovered over the saddle, his weight supported by his strong legs as he briefly tugged the reins and leaned forward. Nightmare jumped past a high thorn patch and disappeared, leaving the motley gang of men that were chasing them in a thick cloud of dust.

  


* * *

  


The sun rose slowly above the horizon, and like a painter's canvas, the dawn sky was awash in several tints of yellow, orange and red. The thick grass was greener than ever and covered with wildflowers that crisscrossed in sporadic patterns all over the prairie. The scents of the valley were just as D remembered them fifty years ago. Shielding his eyes, D glanced at the clear, blue sky that was perfect weather for a human, but for a Dhampir, it meant 'Sunlight Syndrome.' It was a handicap D detested which sometimes caused him to stubbornly refuse the steady warning he received from the scowling face in his left palm.

"You're not seriously getting me started this early, are you? I know you hate my nagging, so do yourself a favor and just find some shelter before noon," spoke the life-form.

"You worry too much," D replied softly. He allowed himself a tiny smile when the life-form huffed and mumbled expletives.

The strange valley was peacefully picture perfect and quite isolated from any major town, the nearest being at least six hours ride. Nightmare slowed to a stop and lifted its head suspiciously to scan the area. D patted the horse's neck in reassurance. They were far from hostile territory.

The Dhampir dismounted and allowed his cyborg stallion to wander to a nearby stream to take a drink. Though the animal had no real thirst for water, it still needed to cool its internal components from time to time, especially after a hard run.

A few paces ahead along the dirt road, stood a small cottage that eerily resembled the 'home made of sweets' discovered by the children Hansel and Gretel, two characters from one of the many ancient bedtime stories that had been read to D as a child. He had his human mother and his father's massive library to thank for his vast knowledge of facts and trivia.

"Ah, yes, the image quite suits you. Curling up by a window reading a very large, musty old book. You're such a _bore_ ," his left hand chortled out.

"Hello, there!" called out a young woman in a pink, white polka-dotted, spaghetti-strap summer dress waving a gloved right hand. In the other, she carried a large basket of prairie flowers. "Hunter, please come in and rest a while!" she added cheerfully and entered the house.

D tensed. Who was the young lady? His unannounced visit for a nice, quiet afternoon engaged in pleasant conversation with an old human friend slowly faded. Letting out a disappointed sigh, he prepared himself for the inevitable introductions.

"Is that the man you've been telling me about?" the young woman whispered as she squinted blue-grey eyes trying to get a better look at the hunter's shadowed face through the colorful house's large bay window. She had just turned nineteen and proudly wore a pair of small, red-jeweled ribbons in her shoulder-length blond hair.

"Yes, Larinn. That's the vampire hunter who saved your parents. Had he not been there that night, I would never have known my grandchild!"

The old man's voice was heavy with gratitude. It delighted him to lay eyes on the Dhampir again. Although fifty years had further weathered his wrinkled face, his eyes still sparkled with youthful intensity.

"Please, prepare him this drink. Let's make him comfortable."

The young woman nodded excitedly and vanished into the kitchen.

D ducked his head carefully as he passed through the elaborate door frame and entered quaint surroundings. The interior's soft, earthen colors contrasted highly with the bright pastels outside the home. His eyes slowly roamed over the expertly crocheted lace tablecloths, porcelain pottery, delicate crystal sculptures and various fanciful objects that filled the house, all neatly arranged in fairytale fashion.

"Well, D, I'm flattered to see you again," said an old man who extended his hand for a friendly shake which the hunter took without hesitation. D never trusted lightly, and something about this old man had always intrigued him.

"We came to see _this_ crusty old coot?"

"Nice to hear you again, Lefty. You're as refined as ever," the old man said with a grin. "As eager as I am to continue our last conversation, I think that's not why D is here."

"It's always, D! Why does everything have to revolve around D?" If the creature had eyes, they'd be rolling.

"Come now. Let's go into the living room where it's cooler."

Sneaking a peek from the kitchen, Larinn stared in disbelief as the vampire hunter slowly assisted her grandfather to his favorite chair. She also noted how comical it was for the somber man in black to have to sit on a white couch decorated with frilly, lavender doilies.

"May I take your hat and cloak?" the young woman offered as she appeared, carrying an ornately carved metal tray loaded with tea and biscuits.

The hunter hadn't planned on remaining very long, now that there was foreign company, but a glance from the old man's enigmatic eyes compelled him to stay.

"Thank you," D replied, unhooking his longsword and leaning it against the wall in a corner beside the couch. He then unclasped his heavy black cloak and neatly folded it, hesitating momentarily before removing his wide-brimmed black hat and laying it atop his cloak.

Larinn's eyes widened slightly and she prayed a blush hadn't reddened her face as she shyly took the items, placing them on a table behind her grandfather's favorite chair. From where she stood, her eyes continued to coquettishly admire D's beautifully handsome face.

"Such a lovely scene. The innocent curiosity of a young lady in the presence of a handsome stranger.  Pardon me while I throw up," Left-hand mumbled. D squeezed his hand tightly hoping no one else heard the belligerent comment.

"Is it always that difficult?" the young woman questioned calmly.

D was truly startled. How had she - ?

"I apologize, D. May I introduce my granddaughter Larinn. I keep no secrets from her and I did promise you a safe haven in my home for generations to come. However, Lefty IS being quite testy today," the old man scolded.

"I'm sorry. I have no control over its...behavior."

The old man waved a hand in the air. "Nonsense, D, you needn't apologize to me on its behalf."

"If I hear one more apology, I swear, I'll scream," Left-hand spoke slowly.

The girl suppressed a laugh. "My grandfather taught me how to make this for you," she said, presenting him with a familiar cup. "I hope it meets your approval."

D stared at the cup. Ruume had selected it for him when they first met, from dozens the old man had in his collection. It was larger and deeper than most, with a smooth black porcelain finish. The handle was an exceptionally detailed black dragon, its toothy jaws biting the rim while the rest of its body snaked in an arc, the tip of its tail disappearing underneath the cup. He drank timidly and tasted its contents. The complex flavor of the Silver Needle tea leaf and a few drops of blood flooded his palate. Although, the blood was spicier and richer this time. It had always been rabbit's blood. The reddish liquid rippled as he replaced the cup on its matching saucer.

"The tea's very good as always, Ruume, thank you." He looked at the young woman who shifted uneasily in her seat. "Though, the taste of blood has changed."

Larinn blushed deeply in response to D's comment and Ruume cocked an eyebrow at his granddaughter questioningly.

"Forgive me, I..." she said nervously. "I couldn't find the rabbit's blood in the meat cooler," she looked down at her fidgeting hands. "So, I-I used some snake's blood instead..." her voiced trailed to a whisper. She braced herself for an angry reprimand.

The old man's left eyebrow was still cocked as he looked at the Dhampir, finding only faint confusion. Though D had visited him only a few times after their first encounter, he felt he had a fair gauge of the man's disposition.

Ruume suddenly bellowed with hearty laughter, clutching his stomach as he did. His outburst surprised everyone in the room.

"This guy's crazier in his old age than that decrepit Barbarois gnome on his unicycle!" bellowed the life-form. "He's starting to give me the creeps, D. Can we go now? Huh? Can we?"

Left-hand's statement just made the old man laugh even more.

"Um...grandfather?" ventured Larinn.

"Oh, my..." Ruume chuckled, blinking back tears. "I haven't laughed like that in years! You really must relax, D. All that tension's ridiculous. Shall I send Larinn away? Even she isn't immune to that exceptionally handsome face of yours. I see why you insist on wearing that hat."

"Without it, he'd have the whole female population chasing after him.  Of course, who're we talking about here?  He thinks his good looks are a curse! What a hoot! He's too beetle-brained to admit that it's more of an advantage. In case you haven't noticed, D, whenever you're in a bind, your best allies are the ladies," Left-hand added with a chuckle.

Larinn got up, a slight frown on her face, and reluctantly prepared to leave.

"Wait," D started. He was at a loss on what to say next.

"What D's _trying_ to say is," Left-hand interjected, "loosely translated, of course," as it loudly cleared its 'throat' then continued in a remarkable recreation of D's voice and said, "Larinn, my dear, please stay. Oh, and forgive me.  I have a knack for being socially retarded."

D glared at his left hand as the old man and his granddaughter laughed helplessly.

The rest of the day progressed with D discovering that he enjoyed the company of Ruume's granddaughter. She was nervous at first, which attributed to much of the awkwardness of her actions. Now that the young woman was more relaxed, and D a little more as well, they all had rounds of rousing conversation which included - much to D's distaste - the participation of the incomparable life-form.

"Oh, my goodness." Larinn said tightly, holding a hand to cover her grinning mouth.

D, blushing furiously, clenched his left hand to a tight fist in indignation. "That's quite enough distorted storytelling from you."

"Settle down," chuckled Ruume. "You have to admit, as abrasive as that creature naturally is, it means well. I for one, enjoy its blunt sense of humor."

"See, D? Not everyone hates me," the life-form said triumphantly.

"Larinn, would you kindly make us another pot of tea?"

"Happily, grandfather," she replied, gathering up the ornate metal tray with its greatly diminished contents and retreated to the kitchen.

The Dhampir sat silently, watching as the old man lit up an intricately decorated wooden pipe.

"Ah, much better. Nothing like the taste of my good home-grown tobacco," said Ruume, reclining deeply into the pillows of his chair.

"A plant of rare quality. I can see it's added to your fortune."

"Trading with trusted suppliers has allowed me to live comfortably," the old man said. He took a deep breath and blew out a series of perfectly shaped smoke rings. "So, D, I heard an interesting bit of news recently. Is it true that you've dispatched that vampire she-devil, Carmilla?"

The Dhampir's muscles went rigid. "Yes. Just over a year ago. I believe she was one of the last of a handful of powerful Nobles still inhabiting this part of the world."

"I see." Ruume puffed slowly on his pipe, deep in thought. He smiled as Larinn entered the living room with her ornate metal tray restocked with tea and small cakes, and patted her hand as she sat in a chair beside him.

The old man sighed as he stared introspectively at D through a haze of pipe smoke. "What will you do next, hunter, after the last Noble falls?"

Distraught, the Dhampir could no longer hold the old man's penetrating gaze. His eyes drifted to Larinn, who amazingly mirrored the same stern expression.

"That, old man, is something I've been wondering myself for years," Left-hand said sadly.

"I...haven't really thought that far ahead..." D said reluctantly.

"Flat out refusing to face that fact, actually. Now that he's so dangerously close to achieving his goal...I _fear_ for him," the life-form said ominously, drawing out a small gasp from the young woman.

"Hush, my dear," said Ruume, squeezing his granddaughter's hand in reassurance.

"Now, both of you," the old man turned to squarely address his Dhampir guest with his bizarre sidekick. "There will be no more thoughts of suicidal nonsense. That a being of several millennia would even _dare_ think such rubbish - !" the old man said angrily.

"Grandfather...please," Larinn said pleadingly.

The old man's face visibly softened and he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, D. I detest people who don't see the value of their own existence, especially one as unique as yours."

The Dhampir sat in melancholy silence, almost wishing that he felt the same way about himself as the old man so fervently revealed.

"D. Lighten up. Have a cake. You're depressing these nice people," said the life-form irritably.

D focused on the worried faces of his gracious hosts and managed a rare, pleasant smile. "I admit I've spent too much time without friendly company." He paused and warmly said, "Ruume, Larinn, I'm forever grateful for your kindness." He slowly stood up, and added, "I believe I've imposed upon you both long enough and I'd like to thank you for your generous hospitality."

"You're welcome here anytime you wish. Which means Larinn here needs to quickly find herself a good husband and fill this house with children to greet you at the door," Ruume teased, earning a swat on the shoulder from his flustered granddaughter.

"Don't _I_ get an invite? Just because I'm attached to this useless humanoid appendage doesn't give you the right to be rude," whined the life-form.

Ruume grinned. "You're right, Lefty. I didn't mean to leave you out. You've made me laugh many times today, and for that I thank you."

As Larinn stood up to retrieve the Dhampir's hat and cloak, the old man walked to a nearby display cabinet and removed a black velvet pouch, tied securely at the neck by a braided silver cord.

"Consider this a humble parting gift from an old man who owes you much," Ruume said knowingly. "Please, open it when you're well on your way to your next adventure."

"Good journey and good fortune to you, D," Larinn said shyly. "Please accept this small food pack. I've included many of grandfather's healing herbs and ointments, as well as a cake of the Silver Needle tea leaf you're so fond of."

"The thoughtfulness of young females is so touching, isn't it?" the life-form whispered in the Dhampir's mind sarcastically.

Ignoring Left-hand's comment, the tall, regal Dhampir bowed respectfully, clutched the food pack under one arm, the pouch dangling from his fingers.  He secured his longsword and cape to his back, donned his hat, then turned to leave.

The sun was low on the horizon, giving D an hour of good light left to travel under with no danger from Sunlight Syndrome. After an equipment check, the Dhampir placed his newly acquired provisions in a hidden compartment inside his saddle and mounted his fidgeting cyborg stallion.

Looking back fleetingly over his shoulder at the two humans waving to him by the doorway of their colorful home, D gave a subtle signal that urged the ebony stallion to a fast gallop.

"Goodbye, D. May your travels finally lead you to the peace you so desperately seek," the old man said cryptically, smiling at the departing figure of the black-clad Dhampir.

  


### ~~~ End One Shot ~~~

  
[ ](http://orig15.deviantart.net/72d0/f/2015/138/5/5/udob_by_kemurikat-d8tvxj5.png)


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